Finding Heaven
by trickygrin
Summary: *NOTE: I FIXED THE MISSING SENTENCES.* Chapter 7? Let's just call this the July Incident chapter. Basic story-- An AU Trigun fic starring everyone you know and love. SPOILERS!!!
1. Killers

twisted1

Disclaimer: Me no own Trigun or Trigun characters. Me own small plastic dashboard angels though, so me happy. Please no sue me, because that make me sad (and broker than me am already)...gawd, me think me been reading too much Incredible Hulk' recently.  
  
  
My brother always said that I viewed things through a narrow field of vision. Tunnel vision,' is the phrase he used, I believe. He said I lacked the panoramic view of the universe that he had gained, and therefore, my own actions were limited to my own experience. I laughed at this, he was always saying things like that back then, but now I'm not so sure he was wrong. The longer I live, the longer I see those around me interact with each other, the more I see of this place... maybe I was wrong, all those years ago. Maybe he saw something in their eyes that I missed, simply because I was too close to them. And if there's one thing I've learned in the years I've been on this planet, its that you lose your perspective once you get to close.  
  
The man behind the desk sat up to flick the ash on the end of his cigarette into the ashtray before him. Ice blue eyes surveyed the papers before him, before he raised the cigarette to his lips again and took a long drag. In the smoky twilight of the room, the tip flared briefly before fading once more. Sighing heavily, he released all the smoke in one long breath before setting the cigarette down into the ashtray. Leaning back, he knitted his hands behind his head before looking at the woman who stared at him expectantly. There was a moment of silence as each gauged the other.  
  
The woman asked, trying to keep the note of impatience out of her voice, And what do you think of our proposal?  
  
The man glanced at the papers before him before meeting her eyes, Honestly, I think the Gung-ho Guns can make a better offer than the ones they've proposed thus far.  
  
Her eyes narrowed dangerously for a moment, before she allowed a quicksilver grin to flash across her features, This is a dangerous game you play, Knives. Leaning against his desk nonchalantly, she smirked at him, And what if we decide your price is too high? What if we decide we'd rather just deal with the problem ourselves? We wouldn't need you at all then, now would we? In fact, I could just kill you right now. Like her smile, her draw was lightning swift at displaying steel. Evidently his guards had missed one of her guns, which was no surprise. They might be battle hardened guards, but she was a Gung-ho Gun. She cocked her gun almost disdainfully, carefully checking his reaction before asking him, Wouldn't that solve most of my problems? He tried not to shiver as she caressed his cheek with the barrel, and he tried not to think at all as she traced his jaw line with it. Her voice whispered softly in his ear, Despite your high opinion of yourself, you, Mr. Millions, are as vulnerable as anybody. He could hear the predatory grin in her voice, could sense her bloodlust, and it scared him more than he would ever admit. She was a monster.  
  
You can't kill me, he choked out, ashamed that the fear was so evident. I'm the one clue you have on him and if I'm gone, then so is your only hope. Swallowing convulsively, he awaited her response, If you're going to kill me then do it. This torturing bullshit is worthless and you know it. If you didn't need me YOU would have killed me off long ago, simply because of my ties to the July incident. Although normally he didn't consider himself a betting person, the situation he was in had so degraded that he was forced to wager his life against what he knew of this woman's temperament and history. It was the most nerve-racking thing he could ever recall doing.  
  
Abruptly she spun the gun back into the gun belts slung low on her waist. Grinning broadly, she sketched a bow before snatching her jacket off of the chair next to her. Very good. I thought you were going to buckle there for a moment, but you proved me wrong. There is certainly more backbone to you than you show, Mr. Millions. Maybe there is more of your brother in you than we previously thought. At this last comment, her eyes flashed angrily, and he could feel the effort she was using to control her violent impulses. It wouldn't do us any good to be dealing with someone who would give up at the first threat to their life now would it? Trying to get his heartbeat back to normal, he shook his head slowly. I'm glad you agree. My master shall review your proposal and see what can be done about it. Pulling her jacket on, she straightened it and headed for the door. Grasping the knob, she stopped as if struck by some thought. He knew the routine, she did it every time that he had dealings with the Gung-ho Guns. Turning back to him, she smiled sweetly before finishing their meeting with, And like always Knives, if you tell anyone of our meeting I will gladly rip your heart out and serve it to the vultures. You, of all people, know how hard it is for me to restrain myself now. Give me one reason and not even your precious information will be able to save you. With that, she smiled and left, closing the door behind her.  
  
He shivered. Visits from her were never to be taken lightly. She was a killer to the core, and he knew for a fact that she had a special hatred of him. Knives supposed that was why she was sent as the liaison instead of another. The Gung-ho Guns hoped to use his fear of her to speed the process. Well, it wouldn't work, because there was more at stake here than simply his life. He sighed and wished that he knew how to make it so that Millie Thompson didn't scare him so much.  
  
However, he couldn't spend all day cowering under his desk. There were always things to be done when one was the mayor of a major city. Shaking off the feelings of dread that Ms. Thompson always left with him, he opened up his office door to let his advisors in. It was time for the daily briefing.  
  
It was a beautiful morning in Inepril City, and Knives Millions had a feeling that he was getting in too deep. However, at this point there was nothing he could do about it but play along and hope for the best.


	2. Humanity

twisted2

Disclaimer-I'm too lazy to write two of them. Same policy as before. And I'm still not making any money at this so don't even bother.  
  
----  
  
The man in red paused outside of town to adjust the tote he was carrying. It was a heavy pack to be carrying in this heat, but he managed it with ease. Entirely too much ease in fact. It was as if he barely noticed that he carried it, which seemed impossible, but it was merely one of many mysteries surrounding this man. It was evident he was a fighter. To the trained eye in fact, this man walked with the catlike grace of one who is always in tune with his surroundings and who was always ready for any situation.  
  
The person who watched the man in red from behind an outcropping had a discerning eye. From here she could tell that he seemed to be carrying two guns, a smaller one strapped to the small of his back, and a larger weapon strapped to the outside of one thigh. That aside, he wasn't as well armed as she'd been led to believe. Honestly, she'd expected the infamous outlaw to at least have a machine gun and a bunch of henchmen. Ah well, the legends were almost always exaggerated, and she should be used to being let down by now. But surely, her mind reasoned with her, the Humanoid Typhoon at least would live up to his reputation?   
  
Through her binoculars, she saw the man straighten and lean back, evidently working a crick out of his back. He acted so... ordinary.  
  
Evidently not, she whispered to herself, wondering why she'd volunteered for this assignment, when there'd been a serial killer in December that she could have been tracking. Now THAT would have been exciting. Far more so than watching Mr. Red over there adjust his bag. Sighing, she leaned back against the rock behind her and wondered for the umpteenth time why Vash the Stampede led such a boring life. She'd been tracking him for nearly three months now, and nothing had come of it. He traveled, he slept, he ate, he helped mothers and orphans on occasion... but not much else. If she had even half the skills he was reputed to have--well her life wouldn't involve chasing insurance hazards, that's for sure.  
  
Sighing, Meryl Stryfe looked over the rock once more. There he was, he hadn't moved much since she'd last looked. Now he was staring at the town that lay before him. She couldn't see what he found so riveting about Inepril. It was only another town, not much ever happened here. It's population had nearly doubled since July City's unfortunate demise, but still... it wasn't exciting in the slightest.  
  
Hefting the tote over his shoulder, the man in red started in towards town. Sighing heavily at her damnable luck, Meryl wondered once again why she couldn't live a more exciting life. There were always plots and schemes going on left and right in the books... However, this was real life, and this was her job, so if she wanted to eat she'd have to continue to follow Vash all over this godforsaken planet. What a depressing thought.  
  
---------------------------------------------  
  
  
Wolfwood noted absently that the woman was following him again. For some reason, she felt it necessary to hide from him, although even the most oblivious of people was bound to notice that someone was following them after the first month and a half. She'd been following him for almost three months now. He knew why too. Like the others who'd been sent to tail him, she thought he was Vash the Stampede. If it wasn't such an ridiculous concept, he would have found it completely funny. As it was, he wasn't even supposed to know that she was there, so he couldn't even really take advantage of this case of mistaken identities.  
  
Wherever you are, Vash the Stampede, I hope you realize that I'm suffering on a daily basis because of you, he muttered, before snagging a crumpled cigarette out of his coat. Lighting it carefully, he tossed the match behind him and entered the city's gates.  
  
Inepril was a busy city, and its population boom had only increased the amount of goods and services being trafficked in and out of the city. The minute he entered the city he was surrounded in the sights and smells of everyday humanity. To either side street vendors hawked their wares, each offering an impossibly low price on goods that they felt he couldn't possibly survive without. Ahead of him, a man was selling roasted nuts and hotdogs, while the lady next to him was selling pottery. It was nearly impossible to separate out individual voices from the clamor of the whole, but he enjoyed every moment of it. He spent entirely too much time alone and it was always a treat to be in the company of others. In his opinion, solitude was not so much a gift as a necessary evil. If he had been given his lifelong dream, he would have been a priest or something similar where his duty would be to spend time with others. However, it was not to be. As it was, he was forced to enjoy what he could of living within the tides of humanity while being constantly on the move.  
  
The din in the street died down as he left the business quarter of the city and entered into the residential area. From the reflections in the windows he passed he could see that the woman was still tailing him. She was actually quite good at this, but years of experience had made him an expert.  
  
Pausing at one window, he eyed the sign hanging above it, before pushing through the batwing doors and entering the bar within. It was dark and smoky, but he could handle that. Crossing the room, and ignoring the pointed stares in his direction, he intercepted a barmaid on her way to another table.  
  
Pardon me, but are there any available rooms here?  
  
Smiling flirtatiously, she winked and answered, Sure are honey, give me a second with these morons and I'll be right there to help you with ANYTHING you need. From across the room there came a tableful of protests at the description.  
  
Laney, you come over here and I'll show ya I ain't a moron at all things, one man catcalled. Even Wolfwood laughed at that one. Life was good, he mused as he crossed to the barstools, sitting between two other men.  
  
A few minutes later the barmaid came back. She was grinning broadly, evidently enjoying having the full attention of every male on the premises. She seemed so openly happy that it was impossible not to smile in her presence.  
  
So, you wanted a room? He nodded. Okay, we've got two left, one is kind of small but with a nice view of street... and the other is bigger, but it has problems with drunks every now and then.   
  
He thought about it for a moment, I'll take the smaller one.  
  
She smiled at him, Good choice. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for payment in advance. How long will you be staying? She was apologetic, which he appreciated.  
  
Only for a couple of days, he answered. When she gave him a figure he paid it in full, with a little bonus for her. Smiling broadly, she leaned forward and gave him a light peck on the cheek, along with the keys to his room.   
  
Remember my offer, she teased before returning to her duties. Smiling at her, he nodded and hauled his bag. His room was up the stairs and somewhere over the bar, and he intended to sleep for a couple of hours before beginning his work. Much as he'd like to have a drink, he needed to be fresh for the night ahead.  
  
Upon reaching his room, he flopped down on the bed and unbuttoned the red coat that caused him so much trouble. Carefully folding it, he placed it on a chair before flopping down on the bed. The coat was falling apart again, he noted absently. I'll have to see about getting that fixed. Damn you, Vash, is your sole purpose in life just to torture me? Rolling over, he mumbled something incoherently before falling asleep on the bed.  
  
With any luck, he'd find who he was looking for tonight, and there wouldn't be any more need for him to continue on this quest. However, he'd been looking for roughly seven years now and the chances of ending his pursuit tonight were looking pretty slim. He could hope though.  
  
--------------------------------------------  
  
Meryl watched the man enter the bar and speak to the barmaid. From her vantage point across the street, she saw the barmaid gesture at the men in the corner and then a few minutes later speak to Vash for a few minutes before handing him a few small items. THey flashed as she dropped them into his palm.  
  
she decided, So this wonderful establishment is where he's decided to set up base. Meryl watched him go upstairs, presumably to his room, before deciding that at least she knew where he was now where he was, and she could find herself a place to rest. And eat. This being her first time in Inepril in a very long time, she'd decided that she was going to experiment with the local cuisine. Rumor had it that Inepril made some of the best chili on the planet, and she fully intended to take advantage of that.  
  
However, she only had around six hours to do this in. She knew the routine by now, Vash enter town, Vash find room, Vash sleep for a few hours, and then Vash sneak' (she used the term loosely) out to go wander the town. It was almost like he was looking to be mugged or something. He would leave the inn at dusk and proceed to walk every inch of the town, usually taking several days to cover every alleyway, every nook and cranny of every single settlement he came across. Honestly, it was perfectly obvious he was looking for something or someone, but he could do it in a more logical manner. Certain parts of town simply weren't open to lone strangers in the daytime, let alone at night. It never seemed to affect him however, but it was a bitch for her to follow him.   
  
She sighed. Okay, she probably should have allowed for a few personality quirks in such an infamous outlaw... and he was pretty normal in every other way, but...  
  
He travels, he sleeps, he eats, he helps mothers and orphans on occasions... and he persists in checking every single town for God-only-knows what, she mentally edited her list of his activities. Well, everyone's got to have a hobby. At least he didn't crochet, which would have driven her completely nuts. And, she admitted, these nighttime excursions proved to be exciting on occasion.  
  
Glancing once more at where he was staying, she carefully untied her Thomas from its hitching post before strolling down the street to find lodgings for herself. And a hot bath, and a good meal, she grinned happily. After all, you always had to have priorities, and right now, those were hers. She'd be back on the job again soon enough, so she might as well enjoy a break right now.


	3. Lost

twisted3

Disclaimer- Just so I don't forget, like I did when I first posted Chap. 2. Don't own it, wish I did, and I'm not making any money at all off of this. There, I think I covered it all.  
------------------------------  
  
  
All of the moons had risen already by the time he left the inn. Wolfwood adjusted his coat once to block out the chill desert wind that had sprung up when the suns had left, and proceeded down the boardwalk towards the street corner. It was going to be a long night.  
  
Puffing his cheeks out and blowing on his hands, he wished he'd thought to bring some gloves with him. If only the desert didn't have such extreme temperatures. Glancing back at the inn, he watched the light from its windows spill out into the street, seductively beckoning him. It certainly would be warmer in there. And there was that barmaid that had taken a shine to him... He shook his head vigorously to shake those unpleasantly welcome thoughts from it. If he gave up now, it might grow to become a habit, and thus make a mockery of the last decade of his life. Better to freeze, he thought. At least I would have been trying to help then.  
  
Picking a direction at random, he headed for the edge of town. This would take about a week altogether to search the whole thing, but it couldn't be helped. And the irony of the entire situation was that whoever he was looking for was more than likely not here anymore if he or she had indeed ever been here. This was the major problem with locating someone who may or may not exist, you never knew where to start. That was why he'd chosen, oh so long ago, to wear the coat. If nothing else worked out, the person he was looking for was bound to recognize this for what it was. Unfortunately, so did just about every bounty hunter worth his salt. No matter that he didn't possess even the slightest resemblance to the descriptions of the legendary gunman, he wore a red trenchcoat and was thus suspect. It was the main reason that the insurance companies sent people to monitor his whereabouts. And although he was very fond of the old coat, he really wished he could get rid of it. But such was life-  
  
With a start Wolfwood realized that he had been so deep in thought that he had reached the edge of town and begun his search without even being consciously aware of it. He certainly was being more contemplative than usual.  
  
I wonder what's bringing this on? he asked himself idly as he paced his second block. Still nothing, but that wasn't any surprise. He knew though, that the main reason for the strange funk that had stolen over him in the past few weeks was almost solely due to the upcoming seventh anniversary of his decision to follow the bread crumbs and see where they led. Seven whole years of his life gone. Seven years that would never come back. And not a clue in the interim to lead him to believe that he wasn't chasing a phantom. However, at this point he wasn't willing to give up, much as he wanted to. Hopefully it might all end soon, but it wouldn't be for his lack of trying.  
  
Damn, I'm in a dark mood today. Maybe I should have taken that drink earlier, it certainly would have stopped this. He smirked, And I probably wouldn't have woken up alone either. Scuffing his feet on the street below him, he turned down another block. Four down and about seven billion to go, but the night was young and he really didn't have anything better to be doing. After all, what if he missed his target after all this time simply because he was busy doing other things?' Gods, he was busy depressing himself today, wasn't he?  
  
Dammit, Nick, you're just digging yourself deeper every minute. He paused to fish out a cigarette and light it. If you keep this up you'll be committing suicide before dawn. Not that he approved of suicide. He found the whole concept to be beyond his comprehension... why kill yourself when you have so much to live for? In fact, he found the whole concept of killing itself to be repulsive. Isolation was his greatest fear in life, and killing increased that prospect tenfold. Why silence another's laughter? Why end another's tears? It only increased your chances of ending up alone in the end.  
  
Lost in his thoughts, Nicholas D. Wolfwood walked the streets of Inepril until he was stopped by weariness. He'd been walking without stop for hours and nothing had happened. Now it was time to retire for the night and wait until tomorrow. Another night gone, never to return again. If only there was some sign that he was on the right path.  
  
All right, I think what you need pal, is a good stiff drink or two and a soft bed. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he wandered off towards where his inn was. After locating it, he sat at the bar and followed his own advice. Warmed by the drinks and exhausted by his own thoughts and meanderings, he climbed the stairs up to his room to sleep.   
  
When he finally crawled back into bed for the night, he barely had the energy to take the coat off. Tossing the coat over the nearest chair he threw himself down on his bed and fell into a deeper sleep than he'd been in for a long time. All night he dreamt of chasing a man who remained just out of his reach. The man seemed vaguely familiar, but Wolfwood would later not recall who it was. He was almost certain that he had never met this tall blonde stranger, but in the dream it seemed almost as if they had been friends. It seemed to him that the emotions stirred within him during the dream had been that of--of something that he hadn't felt in a long time, love.  
  
After a night of restless tossing and turning he finally awoke, not rested but unwilling to undergo any more mental anguish. Stumbling downstairs with the coat draped over his shoulders he ordered another drink at the bar and slumped over the counter.  
  
The barmaid from the night before eyed him concernedly before pouring him a drink. You okay? she asked as she pushed the drink to him, You don't look so good. Did some of the drunks last night bother you?  
  
he barely lifted his eyes to meet her gaze, Just bad dreams.  
  
She nodded. Oh, I know what you mean. When I first moved here I had this time where all I had were these bad dreams. I swear, I got no sleep for about a month. Frowning slightly, she added, The weird thing was that they didn't make any sense.  
  
Knowing that was his cue, Wolfwood sipped his drink idly before asking, Oh, and why was that?  
  
she thought for a moment, They were all very sad, but I don't know why. It was like the dream wanted something, something that I didn't have. ...I don't remember what happened in the dreams except that sometimes there was this man... Her brow was furrowed as she tried to recall the dreams of long ago. All this was sounding very familiar to Wolfwood. She must've noticed a change in his expression, because she asked him worriedly, Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.  
  
That's sounds like my dream- he thought he sounded vaguely crazed, but she nodded sagely at this.  
  
I know this sounds odd, but it's not that surprising. I know a few other people who have had the same dream as well. She shuddered violently before serving a drink to a man down the bar. Upon coming back, she found him lost in the contemplation of the amber of his drink. Don't worry, it goes away after about a month, and it fades every time. She smiled at him warmly, We think it might be because we live so close to the Plant. Honestly though, I don't care so long as I never get those dreams again.  
  
Wolfwood recalled the dream of the man and wondered to himself whether it was as a result of the Plants. It seemed so unlikely, but... Shrugging mentally, he wondered if this was the clue he'd been searching for all this time. If it was, it was a pretty bizarre clue. What was he supposed to do now, wait for something to happen?  
  
Wolfwood spent the remainder of the day napping and wandering the various shops in the older section of town. Although this wasn't precisely his favorite pastime, he felt that at least it gave him time to think. And at least he was thinking while out and about instead of being cooped in his room all day, which would have worsened the effect of his mood immensely. At least this way, the constant presence of others prevented him from getting deeper than he could swim.  
  
For the next couple of days his routine were pretty similar to the activities of the first day. Spending the days ostensibly enjoying himself and helping others, only to spend the nights searching. However, the woman was wrong in telling him that they would fade with time; instead, they were more intense every time he slept. He'd begun waking in the middle of night with tears streaming down his face and the image of the man implanted in his mind. It was like a memory of someone he'd never met but who had been very dear to him. It was torture, but there was nothing he could do about it.  
  
Every morning, the barmaid politely asked him how his sleep was, wanting to know if the dreams were getting better. By better, he supposed she meant less worse, but he wasn't one to quibble over details. Not wanting to concern her with his problems, he did the next best thing. He lied. So he would just smile, nod, and attempt to look less exhausted than he actually was. However, the strain of crying the same tears every night was getting to him.**   
**  
After four days of searching he was already making plans on where he would travel to next. Although neither of the two open choices appealed to him, he really didn't want to spend any more time in Inepril than he had to. Although this seemed to be the most likely place to find what he was looking for that he had come across in a long time, it was too difficult for him to continue on like this. It was getting so that he would force himself to stay awake through sheer willpower. The dreams were also beginning to wreak havoc on his health, and if this kept up he might be forced to seek professional help for a very personal problem. This being the least appealing idea he had at the moment, he felt it might be best to just back away from Inepril for awhile and see if the dreams went away.  
  
On the morning of the fifth day, he forced himself out of bed, only to stumble downstairs to the bar, where he ordered a cup of coffee. The usual barmaid wasn't here today, which he was secretly relieved about. He didn't enjoy lying to people and he didn't like causing others worry. He had a sneaking suspicion that he was doing both to her.  
  
How would you like your coffee? The man behind the counter barely looked at the Wolfwood. From his bored and vaguely irritated voice, Nicholas surmised that he probably wasn't supposed to be working here today.  
  
He needed something to wake him up. Last night's dream had been especially hard on him, but despite his best efforts, he couldn't wake himself from it. Strangely enough, in this one he wasn't chasing the man. Instead, he had been seated on a porch with the twin sunsets blazing off to the side. There was no breeze that he could recall, but the man's hair was being blown slightly anyway. As they sat there, the man finally turned to him so that Wolfwood could finally see his face. The thing that stuck in his mind the most was the intense expression in the man's eyes. They were a light green, the color that water took sometimes. They were the most incredibly penetrating eyes that Wolfwood had ever seen.  
  
_Hey, don't worry, I'll be all right._ The man assured him softly._  
  
I-I know. B-but still-- _   
  
With a start Wolfwood realized that he wasn't actually a part of the dream. There was someone else here, someone who evidently knew the man. Standing up, he stepped away from the porch before turning around. Before him were two people. One, the man, was as solid as real life. The other, a child of maybe ten, was as insubstantial as a ghost.  
  
_Everybody makes sacrifices sometimes-_ The man was talking again, this time time not meeting the child's imploring eyes. _I am no exception. You understand that, right?  
  
Y-yes, sir.  
  
_The man chuckled without humor. _That's new._ There was no response from the boy beside him. Sighing, he put his arm around the child's shoulders, drawing him into a bear hug. From within the depths of his embrace, the child began to cry, his body racked with shuddering sobs.   
  
_I promise to come back. Don't worry, I'll be all right. I'll be all right. I'll come back and we'll live here forever. Don't worry._ The man whispered this into the child's hair, hugging him even tighter towards the end. From Wolfwood's vantage point, he watched one tear slide down the man's face, only to be chased by another, and another. After a few moments, the man released his charge and turned away, not allowing the child to see the tracks that the tears had made down his cheeks. Deftly wiping all traces of his sorrow, he turned back to the boy and forced a smile. _Well, I'd better go. Don't worry about dinner, I asked Mrs. Marlowe to keep an eye on you._ He reached behind him and pulled three things from the shadows, one of which Wolfwood recognized immediately. He gave the child a small wrapped package. As the child stared at it, the man stopped him from opening it. _It's a surprise that I want you to open after I leave. Got it?_ The child nodded slowly. _Okay. Then I'd better go. Goodbye, Legato._ Standing up, the man pulled on the coat that Wolfwood had recognized earlier and holstered the big revolver. Buttoning up the coat, the man gave one last hug to the child before walking away from the porch and into the sunset. He never looked back.  
  
After several minutes of silently watching the man's figure recede into the distance, Legato's face crumpled and he began to cry again. _Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye... goodbye..._  
  
Wolfwood cried along with the boy, wishing there was some way he could comfort Legato in his hour of pain... wishing there was some way he could end his pain. But there wasn't, and so they stayed there, with the sunset reflecting off of their tears.  
  
------------------------------  
  
Hey, you okay mister? The bartender shook Wolfwood's shoulder gently.  
  
With a start, Wolfwood realized that he'd fallen asleep at the bar. Beside him a cup of cold coffee waited. It was black, just like he'd asked for. Ignoring the taste, he sipped some of it carefully to get rid of the parched feeling in the back of his throat. Oh, thanks, he managed at last, I must've dozed off.  
  
Dozed off? The man snorted, That's an understatement. You've been asleep here all day. You looked so tired that nobody wanted to disturb you. I only woke you up after you started whimpering in your sleep.  
  
All day? One whole day spent sleeping, and he still felt tired. What was wrong with him?  
  
The bartender took his coffee from him, pouring it in the garbage. Why don't you get yourself some air. You look like hell. Coffee's on the house. Wolfwood nodded, and slid out of the seat, pulling his coat on as he stumbled out the door.  
  
The night air outside ruffled his hair, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation for a few minutes, before forcing himself to find a nice place to eat dinner. He felt horrible, but that feeling was receding as he spent more time out in the open air beneath the canopy of stars overhead. Maybe he would just spend the whole night walking, but that's what he did most nights anyway... God, it was so beautiful out.  
  
Dropping his eyes from the heavens, he nodded at a few people in passing. Where to go now? He reviewed his options while watching the evening crowd pass by on the street. And then he stopped suddenly, because he had caught a glimpse of a face in the last group... a face who had been haunting his dreams recently. It was the face of someone who was at the center of the quest he had taken upon himself seven years ago, and had not fulfilled, thus far. Vash the Stampede, the man from his dream had just passed him on the street. Turning on his heel, Wolfwood followed in the steps of the man, being careful not to get too close. Even if he meant no harm, it still was a rather strange thing to be approached by a random stranger on the street and to be told that he had spent the last decade of his life searching for him. No, it was best to simply follow until he developed a plan on how to approach him.  
  
Ahead of him, the man from his dreams turned a corner, crossing the street to enter a bar on the far side. Trudging behind him, his eyes glued on the stranger's back, Wolfwood followed him across the street, no longer caring whether or not the man saw him. At this point, all Wolfwood wanted was for the dreams to stop, and he knew that if anyone could stop them, the blonde haired stranger ahead of him could.  
  
His mind blanked as he entered the bar and approached the man from across the room. Vash's back was to him, and all Wolfwood could do was watch him as his feet, acting independently of his mind, walked up to the man. After a moment of just standing there, Wolfwood cautiously tapped the man's shoulder, not knowing why this was going so fast.  
  
The man turned around in surprise, and there was a moment of shocked silence as each took the other in. The man's mouth had formed a perfect O' of surprise when he saw the coat, and then he he choked out a strangled, before meeting Wolfwood's eyes.  
  
Nicholas D. Wolfwood, nomad of the open desert, the man of the red coat, and helper of those afflicted, could only stare in shock at the man's eyes. Blue, they were blue... They weren't supposed to be blue, they were green--green. he managed, before being interrupted.  
  
I'd almost given up on him. I wasn't expecting to see that coat again. The man's normally cool gaze was startled, and Wolfwood's sudden appearance seemed to have unbalanced him. We need to talk. Alone. There are people around who shouldn't see this. Come with me. Quick.  
  
Dazed, Wolfwood was led by the man out the door and hurried down the street. It was all going so fast-- He couldn't follow all that was happening... his brain kept stopping at that point in time where the man had turned around and his eyes had been the wrong color. What was going on here?! However, the only way to find out was to follow the man ahead of him, and hope that he wasn't making a mistake.  
  
  
-----------------------  
  
From across the street, two pairs of eyes watched the proceedings, one with a detached look on her face, and the other with keen interest.  
  
Grinning in anticipation, Millie Thompson sipped the drink in front of her before setting it down carefully and checking her weapons. So Knives had been lying to her... This was the first break she'd gotten in a long time and she planned to take full advantage of it. If Vash's coat had appeared again, maybe Vash himself was not too far behind? The thought excited her. Vash the Stampede... I toast you and your legacy. Raising her glass for the toast, she downed the rest before dropping a tip on the table and taking off after them.  
  
Meryl leaned against the wall of her booth, before signaling a waitress. As she handed the waitress her glass, she noticed something odd. On the other side of the room a woman was staring intently out the window at Vash and his companion. Marking her as a subject to watch carefully, Meryl wondered casually whether Inepril might turn out to be more interesting than previously thought. That last thought made her smile with pleasure. At last... However, now was not the time to daydream. Vash and the other man were leaving now, and she had a job to do.  
  
----------------  
  
Author's note- If this last bit seems a little deus-ex-machina... well I wanted to get this posted and go outside. And as a side note, this last note was written listening to the freakin' Gummi Bears theme song--*shudders* So, any mistakes? I'll fix em later when I'm less antsy. :) And if I don't say so myself, DAMN but it took a long time to get Wolfwood to meet Knives... well, to realistically meet Knives anyway. Oh, and I'd like your opinion on whether or not this should be divided into two chapters (it seems SO long for one chapter).


	4. Found

twisted4

Disclaimer- ... Look, I'm a mirror! .em eus t'noD .seod wothgiN orihusaY .sretcarahc sti fo yna ro nugirT nwo t'nod I-------Damn, it's hard to type backwards.  
  
------------------------------------  
  
Meryl's calves hurt from the angle she'd been sitting in for the past two hours. So something interesting is finally happening to the Witless Wonder,' she thought caustically before grimacing slightly and attempting to work the cramps out of her legs. This was more difficult than it sounded, as she was forced to maintain the careful perch she'd established earlier without alerting the guards positioned down below. The Mayor's mansion, wonder how he ended up here? Damn, but I wish I could hear what they're saying.' She felt slightly stupid after coming all this way and not bringing her binoculars so that she could follow their conversation... but there was no helping that now.  
  
She had tailed Vash and his companion through the greater portion of Inepril, watching as the blond man attempted to lose any tails, and smirking every time. She was much better at this than he was. The thing that surprised her was that Vash wasn't aiding at all. He seemed to be dazed. That's not all that surprising though,' she decided, He's looked like Hell for the past couple of days, maybe it's just caught up with him.' Squinting, she attempted to follow the conversation occurring across the courtyard from her. Nope, still too far. Of course, this has got to be the most unusual thing to happen to him in the time she'd been following him... so maybe--' She shrugged slightly and adjusted her position again. If only she could sit comfortably on this ledge without becoming completely visible to the guards below... Not likely, but it was a thought.  
  
She'd seen the other woman tracking Vash and his friend earlier, but had lost sight of her some time in the interim. The woman was a veritable ghost. It spooked her slightly, she didn't often run into people who could match her move for move and every time she did it left a mark upon her. It was a matter of pride that she was one of the best trackers out there and she had a knack for anticipating where they would show up next, but that woman had evaded her with very little effort.  
  
Below her, a man passed, humming one of the latest songs under his breath. He paused slightly in his rounds, scuffing his soles against the rough dirt of the courtyard. Striking a match, he lit a cigarette before leaning against the wall and hunching his shoulders against the cold. Tapping his fingers rhythmically on his jacket to the tune he was humming, he continued to scan the horizon, watching for anything out of the ordinary. Guard duty wasn't precisely the most exciting thing in the world, as Meryl could readily testify, but he was slacking. Boredom had made him sloppy and she thankful for that. Through him, she was able to gain a view of the proceedings in the room opposite which, discomfort or no, was better than waiting down below with no idea of what was happening inside. Sometimes a little discomfort went a long way.  
  
In the room across the way, she noted that Vash had sat down in the chair, and the dazed expression he'd had since early evening had dulled to merely confusion. He looked exhausted and lost, and for a moment she almost felt sorry for him until her legs twinged again and she realized that, lost or not, he still was inside a very nice, very warm mansion, with a very solid wall between him and the night. After that little thought, she didn't feel quite so sorry for him.  
  
After a moment of watching, she attempted to settle her legs again. They kept falling asleep on her, and it was a tough call on whether or not she preferred dead legs or pins-and-needles. Training called for pins-and-needles, but she was getting sick of this. Damn waiting... Raising her hands from the ledge, she attempted to massage some life into her legs.  
  
Below her, the guard on duty had stopped whistling. Probably had fallen asleep on duty, something she didn't approve of, but it made her job that much easier. The prospect of being able to relax for a little while made her smile, and she peered over the ledge, careful to keep her face within the shadows of the buildings. Shadows were a short commodity on a planet with five moons, and she intended to take full advantage of the stray shadows that these buildings provided.  
  
Yes, there was the guard, he was sitting on the ground, his cigarette lying beside him, forgotten. One hand was cupped above his stomach, the other dangled beside him, trailing in the dust. Trailing in the dust... It lay upon the cold, cold earth...  
  
Her breath caught in her throat as she worked to locate any sign of life in the man below her. He couldn't have--could he? People didn't just fall asleep like that... Watch it Stryfe, don't get excited.' Her eyes darted over the guard, searching for something, anything that would show he was just sleeping. You're just jumpy because of that woman.' Nothing. He's just asleep... you didn't hear anything.' No plumes of breath, no movement, no sounds. And that was the problem, wasn't it. No sounds... Quit it, Stryfe. This is why you don't get the good assignments.' Was he dead? If so, how and when had it occurred? Was she overreacting? She was almost certain she was--  
  
The cold metal that touched the back of her neck an instant later told her she had not been. Cursing her stupidity in letting down her guard momentarily, she froze, hoping for her normal luck to reassert itself. Very good, a voice purred from behind her. You're just lucky I'm only leaving a moment for Mr. Millions at the moment. A pause, before the voice continued, in that same silky voice, I want you to walk up to the front door, and tell the two men that you've been watching that the Gung-ho Guns do not appreciate being left out of situations that interest them. Meryl shivered at the tone in the speaker's voice, it reminded her of the night sky, cold and dead. And so very... dangerous. Inform Mr. Millions, that if he wishes to play the game in this fashion, we will be forced to counter appropriately... and nobody wants that to happen. Can you do that? That last seemed not so much a question, as a threat.  
  
Meryl wished that she could stop thinking momentarily. Incidents reported to Bernardelli over the years flashed through her mind, incidents of murder and violence, incidents of death and destruction. The one factor that linked these seemingly unrelated cases together was the mention of the Gung-ho Guns,' in every report. The Gung-ho Guns, a mysterious organization that many believed didn't even exist. Somewhat similar to the legend behind Vash the Stampede, the Gung-ho Guns were mostly myth, a tale told to frighten small children, a spook organization that some deemed a crime syndicate, and some claimed was a plant-worshipping cult. Although Bernardelli had no official opinion on this matter, each Gung-ho Gun case was treated very carefully. After all, as the story went, where the Gung-ho Guns go, only death follows. Even one of the most powerful organizations on the planet was not exempt from this rule. Whoever--whatever they were, the Gung-ho Guns were not something to be trifled with.  
  
I'm glad you understand. The gun was lifted from Meryl's neck and she restrained her immediate impulse to run. Be sure to mention that Millie Thompson sends her regards, the woman gave a low chuckle before holstering her gun. Don't even think about trying anything. I know you are intelligent enough to recognize the danger in false courage at this point. Turn around. Praying that the odd note in the Gung-ho Gun's voice was not one of a final decision on her fate, Meryl did as she was told.  
  
The first thing she noticed was how tall the figure before her was. Cloaked in shadows, the woman seemed not so much a living, breathing entity, as the dark within the dark. As the figure forced her to stand out of the shadows, she noticed the woman's hand, long and aristocratic. Finally, when the woman herself stepped out of the shadows to reveal the face that Meryl Stryfe had been fearing, she noticed the cold look in her eyes. Millie Thompson was the woman who had dodged her detection while she had been tracking Vash and the man she assumed was Mr. Millions.  
  
Once you deliver your message, I want you to stay close to the two men and follow them where ever they go. Consider yourself my emissary, if you will. And also, consider yourself lucky, for it isn't often that someone is allowed to see me and live. Should you betray me, my reason for doing this is gone, and so are my inhibitions. There was another one of those pauses, where Meryl listened to her heart beat. Although you yourself might disappear into the woodwork, be assured that I will kill one bystander for every day that you live afterwards. She cocked her head at Meryl, a slight smile touching her mouth without reaching her eyes.   
  
It was then that Meryl Stryfe saw it. The flicker of emotion that flickered across Millie Thompson's features wasn't anger or even bitterness, but instead, it was a drowning, silent sadness. Even that small portion of the inner pain threatened to overwhelm Meryl's senses. But it was gone before she could verify it, and an instant later she wasn't sure she had seen it at all.  
  
We've studied your company Ms. Stryfe, for many years. We know you. Don't try to be clever or righteous, or I will be forced to exact the price for crossing a Gung-ho Gun. And with that warning, she was gone, disappearing before Meryl could fully register what had just occurred.  
  
In the distance a Thomas mewled before dropping silent once more. The night was empty once more, and Meryl had an entrance to the mansion before her. Glancing around her nervously, she climbed to the ground before crossing the courtyard carefully. From the simple act of crossing the open area, she saw why no one had raised the alarm on the lone dead guard. Millie Thompson certainly did thorough work.  
  
At the door she paused, wondering how a routine job could turn so dangerous in the span of a night. Or had the job always been like this but she'd never been in the right places? Nevertheless, she certainly had the action she'd been waiting for. Opportunity had knocked, so it seemed, and it was her time to see where it led. She had no doubts that the Gung-ho Gun had been telling the absolute truth about the consequences of not following her instructions to the letter, and she didn't intend to sacrifice innocents simply because she didn't know what she was getting into. After all, this was the danger and excitement she'd been craving for all these years, right?  
  
Steeling herself for the future, Meryl Stryfe, one Insurance Investigator for the Bernardelli Insurance Company, knocked on the door to the Mayoral Mansion, and wondered who would open the door.  
  
Time to face your destiny, Meryl, she muttered as the door swung open to reveal light.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Author's note: Sorry, got tied up in work. Couldn't figure out what I wanted in this chapter...you know how it works. In the end, I decided to go with what I'd written down originally, and actually did it.   
  
Next up: Two people who've met... but haven't, meet for the first time... (That sounded almost... deep.)


	5. Nightlight

twisted5

Disclaimer-- Jeez, do I hafta do one for every freaking chapter? Da--amn... Okay, lemme try this: ditto on chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, and of course 5.   
------------------------  
  
Wolfwood sank into the overstuffed chair gratefully, a blank look on his face. What was he doing here? Who... no why... The questions flickering through his head silenced him, and so he simply watched as Vash paced the room.   
  
As for the other occupant of the room, his mental state was obvious. He acted as if the world had come crashing down on him in the span of an hour... which in a sense it had, Wolfwood supposed. So there they were, Wolfwood, dead in the chair, and Vash the dream specter, pacing the room as if he were a prisoner within his cell. Inside his very richly furnished cell, Wolfwood added silently. This had to have cost a fortune to decorate, it even had wood floors and wooden walls. He had never seen so much wood in one room before, and from what little of the rest of the house he'd seen, it was all like this. While observing the room, Wolfwood turned his thoughts to the occurrences of the past few hours.  
  
For the majority of the trip to his current destination, he had been seriously out of it. His thoughts had kept on revolving around the color of his host's eyes. They should have been green but they were not. He had seen this man in his dreams, but his eyes were wrong. Why? It was as if he was watching deja vu from the other side of the mirror. These thoughts troubled him, which he didn't care much for. Why couldn't anything ever be simple?  
  
Finally, the man spoke, his faltering words echoing through Wolfwood's mind. You said your name was Nicholas? Before we start, I have to set you straight. I-I'm not Vash, he started, his voice cracking on that last word. My name is Knives, Knives Millions. Pace... Pace... Pace... He stopped and looked at Wolfwood questioningly, as Nicholas attempted to grasp what had just been said. Not Vash? But... the dream, and the promise... This had been the man speaking to the child in his dream... This had been the man who had left the dream carrying the coat that Wolfwood now wore... This was the man whose footsteps he had trailed on this dusty planet for seven years. Seven years of his life lost to the pursuit of a phantom... and now? It didn't make any sense. It had been through the actions of the Humanoid Typhoon that Wolfwood had taken up his quest, his cross so to speak. It had to be him... he matched everything he could recall of Vash the Stampede, except for the eyes. The eyes which should have been the color of water were instead the color of a clear sky.   
  
Shaking his head, Wolfwood realized that the man had been speaking for several minutes now, stumbling over his own words as if in an attempt to rid himself of them. So you see, he has appeared several times since then, but--  
  
You mean Vash is your brother? The flat tone Wolfwood asked it in caused the man before him to spin around and look at him closely.  
  
I don't know. I guess you could say that. There is no proof that he is not my brother... but there is no real proof that he is my brother either. The man shrugged, dropping his hands to his sides in frustration before turning to the window and staring outside. I-It's complicated--even for me. I don't know how to tell it to someone who wasn't involved. He sighed once more, his posture one of defeat. Hell, I don't know how I'd discuss this with Vash even. At this last statement he stopped and leaned against the window, spreading his palms over the flawless glass. There he stood, leaning out over the night of the courtyard, moodily surveying the nightscape. But I'm sure he'd know what to do, wouldn't he? He laughed bitterly.  
  
After a moment of awkwardly observing the man, Wolfwood forced himself out of the chair to walk over to Knives. Standing there, he ignored the fact that Knives was not acknowledging him. he said softly, turning his face towards his companion, You said you wanted to talk. Knives nodded silently. I suspect that what you want to talk about has something to do with what I've been searching for all these years, doesn't it? Knives let out a heavy sigh, his breath fogging the glass. Standing up straight, he glanced over at Wolfwood once before replying.  
  
Honestly, I can't say.  
  
Can't, or won't?  
  
Can't, in this case. You see, I am aware that Vash has something to do with your appearance, however, I don't know what precisely. I never fully understood him. He was, well, he was Vash. He-- Knives voice had gotten huskier since the conversation had begun. It was the sound of unshed tears, and Wolfwood hated it. Shit. I don't know about you, but I'm going to need a drink.  
  
Wolfwood shook his head, and watched as Knives fixed himself a drink from a shelf behind his desk. Jesus, you've practically got enough to stock a bar back there, he observed casually. You planning on doing that or is this just one of the perks of your... um job? He gestured vaguely around the room, his eyes widening as he watched Knives finish one drink and begin to pour himself another.  
  
I'm the mayor of Inepril, and as such I entertain many political figures in this room. A portion of this involves the occasional friendly drink. All business, you understand. Knives lifted the glass he was drinking out of to the light, observing the play of colors across his shadowed hand before continuing. Lately, my guests have been mostly of a certain sort. A certain, very dangerous sort. He lowered the glass and took a swig before finishing his statement. And they all want the same thing.  
  
Which is? Wolfwood wasn't sure he wanted to hear this, but there was no turning back now.  
  
Vash. Just Vash. However, since no one there has been no sight nor sound of him since July... I guess they'd probably settle for you. Circling around the desk once more, a refilled glass in hand, he sat across from Wolfwood, his face deadly serious. They call themselves the Gung-ho Guns. I don't know if they ARE the Gung-ho Guns, but their agent, Millie Thompson, certainly is talented enough to be a member of such a legendary organization. God, she's--she's... She's the reason I keep the bar. You'd know what I meant if you met her. Hell, I think even Vash would have been scared by her.  
  
So the Gung-ho Guns are after Vash? But why?  
  
I don't know. I might ask the same of you, but I am not entirely sure I want to know why you seek him. Knives sipped his drink before leaning back into his chair. But this is all slightly off topic, isn't it? You want to know about Vash, which is a story that I can't tell you for reasons you will discover. However, I can take you to one who can tell you, if you wish. Taking another sip, Knives watched Wolfwood consider his answer. You realize that by now the Millie Thompson knows you're here, that is, if she wasn't already tailing us from the beginning. By now, you're so deep in this that the only way out is to see it through to the end.  
  
What end? Wolfwood stared blankly at the wall behind Knives, his voice empty. There was no end as far as he could see. There never was.  
  
I don't know, but you are the piece of the puzzle that's been missing for all this time. My guess is, that whatever it is, it's coming pretty soon. So do you still want to see him? He's the most likely to have your answers, just as you are most likely to have our answers.  
  
  
  
Legato. Legato Bluesummers.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
_Dark, so dark.  
  
Help?  
  
Too dark.  
  
Why are you here?  
  
Where...  
  
Death. Nothing but death all around him. An empty field... a field of skeletons. Eyeless skulls, endless skulls, grinning skulls. The dull gleam of bone picked clean. And ravens... Endless flocks of ravens, circling, circling. Circling forever, and crying far harsher than he had ever. Circling forever. Ever. Circling.  
  
The man awoke from his dream suddenly, his mind flashing through the memories of what had been. Death? No, not any longer. Not for him. A savage grin split his countenance, as he reviewed that last thought. Death? Hell, he was immortal! He was a fucking god! The smile dropped, revealing what he'd hidden underneath. The pain in his eyes belied any smile he could dredge from the pits of his soul. Some god, he thought angrily. Some god you are, you can't even save yourself, let alone those who trust you.  
  
With that, the man began to cry, his shoulders shaking in the effort to keep the sorrow as quiet as possible. Some god... Some fucking god you are... You're no god, you're an avenging angel without a cause. You're an angel of death, face it. You'll be the one to kill this world.  
  
_----------------------------------------------------------  
  
Knives led Wolfwood out the door of his study and into the corridor, leaving his drink on a bureau they passed. As they walked, Wolfwood studied Knives. Knives had obviously noticed how much Legato's name had shaken him, but he hadn't said anything. The man didn't seem to want any involvement in the proceedings, and it was apparent he had no choice in the matter. What could have drawn him in, Wolfwood wondered. But if Nicholas D. Wolfwood expressed any curiosity, it would take him deeper in, and all he wanted was to get out. Of course, sometimes the only way out is through the other side.  
  
As they went down the stairs towards the hallway, there was a knock. Despite himself, Wolfwood jumped. Who would be knocking at this hour? Tales of the Gung-ho Guns flashed through his head, thankfully leaving as soon as they arrived. Murder, dismemberment, a family crucified for an unknown purpose... He shuddered.  
  
Knives glanced back at him, his brow furrowing in disconcertment.   
  
From the servant's quarters a voice sounded out, Who could it be at this hour? An older gentleman appeared in the doorway in his nightclothes, blinking owlishly in the light. There's around twenty guards patrolling, how did someone get by?  
  
Just answer it, Harold, a woman's voice came from the other room, If they got this far, they aren't armed.  
  
Wolfwood raised an eyebrow at Knives, who had stopped on the landing and surveyed the conversation with a critical eye. He glanced back at the man in red before returning his gaze to the front door, I hired protection to keep civilians out of the way. He sighed, It was because I never knew how far the Gung-ho Guns would go to gain my cooperation. I felt that if there was an insulating layer between myself and the city, well, it might just be safer that way.  
  
So do you think this is the Gung-ho Guns? Wolfwood didn't breathe as he waited for an answer. Below them, Harold had pulled on a bathrobe and was opening the door.  
  
If it is, there's nothing we can do. Unless you're a fighter as well? Knives tone was resigned, but not incredibly fearful. This isn't their normal style.  
  
Readying a gun in case, Wolfwood prepared himself for whoever was on the other side of the door. He almost laughed when after all his preparation the door swung open soundlessly to reveal a petite woman on the doorstep. An incredibly familiar, petite woman. One that he was almost absolutely sure was not a member of the Gung-ho Guns. And quite ironically, just about the last person he'd expected to see on the doorstep this night.  
  
Before the butler could get a proper introduction out, the woman had raced in, frantically glancing around before spotting Wolfwood and Knives. After locating them, she dove for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Although Wolfwood had lowered his weapon upon seeing who was at the door, he still kept it out. The insurance girl was definitely acting out of character tonight, and he suspected that it had something to do with the recent developments in his search.  
  
Stopping in front of Knives, she paused a moment to glance over at Wolfwood suspiciously (and, he suspected, a little angrily) before introducing herself. Mr. Millions, I am Meryl Strife of the Bernardelli Insurance Society, and I come with a message.  
  
Knives, who was completely unprepared for this sudden appearance, was doing his best not to glance around wildly. Smirking at having the upper hand temporarily, Wolfwood eased his mind. Don't worry, I can verify this.  
  
Meryl glared at him venomously. Turning back to Knives, she continued, I bring a message and a warning from the-- now she was nervous, --the Gung-ho Guns. Millie Thompson sends her regards and says that the Gung-ho Guns do not appreciate being left out of situations that involve them. Closing her eyes as she said this last portion, it was evident she was reciting words that had been burned into her memory. After the last bit, she opened them once more and stared hard into Knives' eyes. I am to stay around you two, and aid you in whatever it is that you are doing. If I do not... There was another of those pauses, in which she worked to articulate Millie Thompson's threat. If I don't, innocents will die, and I can't live with that. I know that you can't trust me, but please... Her eyes were pleading now, and Knives couldn't handle it alone any more.  
  
he started.  
  
he corrected automatically, watching Meryl's reaction carefully. Her face went blank. He could imagine what she was thinking right now. _Nicholas? Wolfwood?_  
  
Okay, Wolfwood. Can you trust her? Do you know for sure that she's not a Gung-ho Gun?  
  
Meryl glanced back at Knives, then at Wolfwood. Her face was varying between looks of shock, confusion, and anger. I am not a Gung-ho Gun. I have been following Vash for several months now. I am, as I said before, an insurance representative. Her face darkened, Or at least, that's all I was until a few minutes ago.   
  
Knives was surprised.  
  
She means me, and yes, she is telling the truth. Wolfwood turned to the butler, who had been staring at this exchange for several minutes now. You can shut the door and go back to bed now. The man nodded once before following the advice quickly and scurrying out of the room.  
  
So, she's telling the truth, and the Gung-ho Guns not only know you are here, but they also have a ready stand-in right here? Knives' voice sounded vaguely panicked.  
  
I'm not a ready stand-in, Meryl growled, If I had it my way, I'd still be tailing him in the desert instead of being responsible for the lives of people I don't and probably won't ever know. I love danger, but only if it involves me. I don't make it a habit to gamble with other people's lives.  
  
And I'm supposed to trust the word of a stranger? A stranger, who I might add, has incredibly lucky timing.  
  
I was watching you from across the courtyard. I followed you from the bar. You're not that hard to track, Mr. Millions.  
  
Stop it, you two! Wolfwood's voice cracked like a whip through their argument. You sound like children. This isn't getting us anywhere. Knives, you said it yourself, the Gung-ho Guns could kill us all if they wanted to. Knives nodded. They don't want us dead, so let's work at figuring out why.  
  
That's easy, because they want Vash. That's all they've ever wanted. Knives glared at Meryl once more before continuing, What Millie Thompson wants is a whole other question.  
  
Vash?! But he's-- Now Meryl was really confused, Isn't he?!  
  
Nicholas D. Wolfwood, at your service. He extended his hand, which the dumbstruck Meryl Stryfe took. This is indeed Vash's coat, however, I am not the Humanoid Typhoon. Knives Millions is his brother though.   
  
But... two months... wasted... Meryl mumbled incoherently.  
  
Better than seven years, Wolfwood sighed, At least we're acting like reasonable adults now. Now, what was that about a warning from the Gung-ho Guns?  
  
Meryl shivered slightly. SHE did it while I was on the ledge. I never heard a sound. One minute the guard below me was enjoying a cigarette, and the next... She brushed her hair out of her eyes absently before finishing. Well, I saw parts of what she did as I crossed the courtyard. There's no one left out there. Her eyes flashed once before becoming sad once more, She would have killed me as well, except her sense of aesthetics wanted me to be a messenger. She found it amusing, I suppose.  
  
Knives watched Meryl recall her conversation with the killer. She wasn't faking her emotions, he could tell. She was experiencing something that few did, a flashback to a meeting with Millie Thompson. With this revelation, he realized that he could sympathize with her on at least this point. He would trust her, for now. But he would also keep an eye on her.  
  
Wolfwood, upon hearing of Millie's note,' had fallen into a deep silence. Meryl watched them both, her face one of alternating despair and anger. What do we do now? she finally asked.  
  
What we were doing before you interrupted us. Knives sighed, hoping he wasn't making a mistake.  
  
Which was?  
  
We're off to see someone who has an interest in this. Knives glanced over at Wolfwood. I think you know him, in some form at least. He is, well, he is someone who tends to leave impressions upon those he visits.  
  
Wolfwood nodded once, Yes. Legato. The name seemed full of promise and power. Legato. Legato Bluesummers, the child of his dreams.  
  
Who is Legato? Meryl watched them.  
  
Knives frowned slightly as he thought about that question. The question is more of, who isn't Legato? Seeing that this response didn't answer any questions, he added, He is the only one who can tell the whole story of July, from the beginning to its tragic end.  
  
Why is that? Now Wolfwood was even more curious.  
  
Because he was in the middle when it was destroyed.  
  
------------------------------------------------  
  
Author's Note: Hmm... if the door knock scene seems a little odd, well I had to get SOMEONE to open the door eventually. If it had been me, I wouldn't have opened it for the world, but hey, I'm not Harold the butler. And I think I'm a chapter behind what I planned. I actually had a Legato-meeting set for this chapter, but it didn't work out that way. Oh well, there's always next chapter. Oh, and this is a bigger chapter, like you asked.:) I actually was worried a couple chapters back that I was getting too windy.


	6. Nostalgia

twisted6

Disclaimer: No guarantees, and no ownings. That's about all I have to say on this. That, and the fact that I feel kinda stupid for starting two multichapter fics at the same time. C'est la vie.  
  
-------------------------------_  
  
Ivory skin... She had ivory skin at the end. Skin so white and raven black hair to frame it. She was... perfect. Perfect smile, perfect laugh, perfectly honest in life, even if her death was the greatest lie of them all.  
  
And as for him? I don't know what he was. I am sure that of all people, she was most likely to know him, not me. Although I thought I was his ally in all this, the one he told his deepest secrets... he fooled me.  
  
Where are they now? Buried deep? No, that wasn't their style. She was a child of the planet, and she would have wanted to travel its winds until the end of time. And he would have chased her, always asking the question that he posed to me on those lonely nights. The question that I knew deep down, wasn't directed at me at all.  
  
Can you forgive me?  
  
I don't know if she ever did. I don't know if I can.  
  
_--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The house they entered seemed perfectly normal. It had no single feature that distinguished it from any of the others that lined the street. The daub brown walls were exactly the same shade as the earth itself, so it appeared in the morning light, to be melting into the ground itself. Nicholas D. Wolfwood, following closely on the heels of Meryl and Knives, glanced around as they entered the house. It seemed so normal, and yet, it had a certain familiar presence about it. He'd never been here in his life, but some part of him recognized it for what it was, the house from which the dreams originated. The current residence of one Legato Bluesummers. Swallowing slightly as he mounted the porch stoop, Wolfwood wondered what had become of the tearful blue-haired child of his dreams.  
  
Once inside the house, the first thing that Wolfwood noticed was the dark. It seemed to be alive here, in this house. It was an elusive presence that had taken on a tangible form here and he could feel its power. It was power itself. It was a dark crackling energy, one that he could not ignore, despite his best efforts.  
  
Meryl, for her part had noticed the presence in the shadows as he had. Whipping her head from side to side in confusion, she found herself whispering to their guide, Raising a finger to his lips in warning, she watched as he approached a doorway in the corner. How he could tell where anything was in this dark was beyond her, but she didn't question his motives. He knew what he was doing, and all she was required to do at the moment was trust that he knew what was going on. Resting her hand on her guns, she   
  
Knives struck a match in the dark, a tiny flare that the surroundings seemed to swallow. Meryl prayed that it didn't die, even if the match didn't light much it still reduced the strength of the dark. After a moment of watching his shadowed face glance around the room, Meryl heard a muttered curse, and watched as the match sputtered and burned out. Apparently this small light had been enough though, for Knives proceeded to one corner, stumbling over a small stool in the process. She could trace his path across the floor simply from the crashes. Weren't the occupants of this house hearing any of this? Although she wasn't one to put much stock in gut feelings, this felt wrong. The house itself felt dead, as if all of the furniture here was simply here for show.  
  
After a moment of silence, there was a click and the room was flooded with light. Shielding her eyes, she caught a glimpse of Wolfwood doing the same. Knives, however, was standing in the corner with his hand on the light switch, looking around the room in confusion.  
  
Why didn't you give us a little warning there? Wolfwood growled at Knives, pulling on a pair of black sunglasses out of his pocket. After receiving no answer, he merely stood there waiting for his eyes to adjust. Meryl wasn't quite as lucky. After a few minutes of psychedelic visions dancing behind her lids, she finally forced her eyes open to her surroundings. Wolfwood stood to one side, fiddling with the buckles on his coat idly, his sunglasses propped up on his head. He struck her as suddenly appearing very boyish and uncertain, until the image was broken by him digging a cigarette out of his pockets and holding it to his lips. Looking over at Knives, he raised his eyebrows questioningly.  
  
Go ahead, Knives appeared to be enjoying himself and the flash of confusion that she had seen before was gone. Although it was evident he wasn't quite in his element, he certainly knew more about what was going to happen in the next few minutes than either of his companions.  
  
Moments ticked by on a clock against the far wall. Nothing happened. Knives leaned against the table, crossing his arms, Now we wait. He decides when and if he appears. Sighing slightly, Knives stopped talking and stared at the floor.  
  
Meryl interrupted his reverie after a minute or so of silence. Wolfwood puffed on his cigarette in the corner, only looking up at the sound of Meryl's voice. A ring of smoke circled his head, resembling a halo of sorts. She blinked and the effect was gone.  
  
Knives' voice reminded her of her question. He was looking at her tiredly. Tired, and yet somehow... anticipatory. It was as if his world was running him down, but in this it was also promising something he had only dreamed of before.  
  
If Legato is the only one who knows the full story behind Vash, why haven't the Gung-ho Guns gotten to him yet? Do they know where he is? The idea of one man holding all the answers had been too simple. Something wasn't right about this.  
  
Knives chuckled humorlessly, Of course they know about Legato. There isn't much on this planet that they don't know about. However, Legato is--  
  
A new voice joined in the conversation. It was smooth, elegant, and completely unexpected. Wolfwood and Meryl both reached for their guns before feeling something stop their hands. The thing controlling their hands forced them to drop the guns and turn around. Behind them, a tall man stood in the doorway. How long had he been there? His hair was a deep blue, a color that only seemed natural on him. His eyes were the color of a tiger's eye, deep and almost too beautiful to look at. Against such an unusual face, his clothes were particularly mundane. Black shirt, gray pants, a brown duster slung over one shoulder. In one arm he held a bag of groceries. Knives, I see you came. He nodded at Knives' back before shutting the door behind him and hanging up his coat on a hanger near the door. Approaching the table in the center, he set the bag down before beginning to put the groceries away.  
  
Legato, where the hell have you been? We've been waiting. Knives glared at the man behind him, who was busily stacking cans of soup in a cabinet on the wall.  
  
I was getting food. Even the almighty Legato needs to eat every now and then. A faint hint of a smile touched the man's voice. Besides, you were only here for a few minutes before I came. I felt it when you entered.  
  
Knives nodded briefly in assertion. Fair enough. These people--  
  
Are here about Vash. Yes, I know. He turned to Wolfwood, Everyone's been speaking of a mysterious man in red these past few days, may I assume that they are speaking of you?  
  
Yeah, I guess you could say that. Wolfwood looked appraisingly over at Legato. I know you, don't I?  
  
The man looked at Wolfwood startled. Know me? I don't see how that is possible--  
  
I was in your dreams, Legato. You dream of him every night, don't you? He charged on, hoping that he was right. If he was, then there was the chance that he might be able to sleep peacefully again.   
  
Legato was the most ruffled he had been since finding three people in his kitchen. So, that was you? You look... different. Wolfwood felt something brush his mind, rifling through files in his head that he wasn't aware were there. You're telling the truth. That's a rare enough find these days. So, I assume you wish to understand why you were brought here?  
  
Meryl nodded. Wolfwood paused a moment before snuffing out his cigarette and nodding as well. Knives merely watched before turning to Legato,   
  
Legato's voice was quiet, the only sound in the room aside from the ticking of the clock. Then, let's get started. You need the background to understand what is going on today. This is a very long story...  
  
--------------------------------  
  
My mother's name was Rem Saverem. She was a member of a crew whose purpose was to locate another planet that was suitable to support life, specifically human life. It was a serious undertaking, supported and financed by all of the major governments of the old planet. Called the last hope for human survival, it was natural that most people would wish for its success. The governments pulled in the best and the brightest to run the starships for the project, and some scientist somewhere decided upon its name, Project Seeds. Slightly corny, it was somehow fitting for the whole operation.  
  
Mother joined the crew after she lost her boyfriend in an accident. With her qualifications, the committee was more than willing to overlook her emotional state if she wished to help crew the Seed ships. I think that they figured that if she was cryogenically frozen for the majority of the trip, that she might come to terms with his death by the time she was on duty. Her crew mates were to be exceptionally stable, in order to counterbalance her mild unbalance. It all worked out on paper for the bureaucrats, and someone pulled enough strings to force them to allow her on the crew. She was a PR dream, a hero recovering from a tragic blow and sacrificing all she owned to aid in the survival of her species. Like I said, it worked out on paper, and so long as the financing committee insisted on her there was nothing that the people in charge of the project could do about it. Legato smiled bitterly before continuing, And thus, the SEED ships were fired into space, leaving behind a rotten husk of a world. A world that they called home.  
  
The ships sailed for many generations, its crew rotating on and off, cryogenically freezing any crew members who weren't working at that moment. However, they never unfroze my mother. Along with the remainder of the Landing Crew, she was untouchable by the years. She was the Sleeping Beauty awaiting her prince, but her prince had died on a planet long ago. And so she dreamed on.  
  
The ships themselves were powered by a highly experimental technology, which were the predecessors of what we know today as Plants. Developed only months before the SEEDs launch, nobody really knew their potential, or where they had come from. Their creators watched the ships leave without divulging their secrets. And thus, we'll never know where the Plants came from, or what they really are. We only know the next part of the story, where after one of the Plants malfunctioned, several engineers were called down to inspect. What they found, deep within the depths of the Plant itself, were two babies. Where did they come from? Nobody knew.  
  
Legato paused in his oration to take a sip of water. Brushing his bangs out of his eyes, his golden eyes flicked across the room's occupants quickly.  
  
What were the babies? Meryl found herself asking.  
  
Clearing his throat slightly, Legato shrugged. They appeared to be normal human children. All sorts of tests were done on them by the ship's doctors, and after the first few of them it became readily apparent that they were not anything close to what they appeared to be. They were instead, closer to Plants than anything else. Still, they weren't even Plants. Although certain of the crew members called for the two children to be destroyed, the majority of the crew were of the opinion that these weren't threats at all, but a sign from some deity. Some even called them angels.  
  
Life continued as normal as it could. The children grew incredibly fast, aging physically about ten years in the space of one year. Extremely intelligent, they both possessed inhuman dexterity and strength. The crew grew divided over opinions of the twins. One part of the ship practically worshipped the two, claiming them to be a divine sign. The other claimed that they might be dangerous. And it was in this tense environment that a report was filed of a suitable planet for the humans. Although it was unsatisfactory in many areas, all of these flaws were fixable to some extent. The aging crew was tired of the ships, and many simply wanted to be done with the whole journey. After a vote, the Landing Crew was awakened, fresh and bright. It was time for a touchdown.  
  
Legato sighed, The twins' names were Vash and Knives. At these names, both Meryl and Wolfwood jumped, glancing over at Knives, who was staring determinedly at the floor. When Vash first saw Rem, he developed a sort of schoolboy crush on her. She encouraged it, to some extent. Finding this to be a cute development, she took comfort in Vash's adoration. It helped her to forget about her own loss, which although everyone else on board had left behind decades ago, was still a raw pain in her own heart.  
  
The Day of Landing had seemed normal enough, everything seemed to be going well for the members of the ships. And then... the next thing many of them knew, the ships were crashing into the planet and people were dying, and fires were starting everywhere. The Landing Crew sacrificed themselves for the good of the whole, ejecting the cryogenic pods and the Plant ship...  
  
Legato paused, a pain creasing his brow. This is the information that I've gotten from years of speaking with surviving crew. I know the story so well by now that I could tell it backwards. The ships crashed for an unknown reason, the civilians survived for the most part, scraping a living off of the planet with the aid of the Plants. Somehow, in all of this mess Vash, Knives, and Rem survived. According to scattered accounts, Rem traveled with the twins for a few years, watching their growth rate slow down as they approached what passed for their late teens.  
  
Wolfwood struck another match, lighting a waiting cigarette. Wait a minute, if Knives was there, why isn't he telling the story, instead of relying on your scattered accounts?'   
  
Knives stopped Legato, who had been about to answer,   
  
  
  
All right... Wolfwood, I know what he says is true. However, it is best for all concerned that I don't attempt to tell this story. Knives' voice was sharp, his tone acid.  
  
Meryl almost feared the answer, but there was none. Knives merely ignored the proceedings. After a moment of tense waiting, Legato continued this time pausing reflectively between each sentence, picking his words for maximum effect.  
  
he said carefully, Was in love with Rem. There was no getting around this fact. Although she had thought it was cute before when he was a child, it became more and more of a problem the older he appeared to be. By the end of their fourth year together, Vash had become obsessed with Rem, and though she tried to deny it as much as she could, it was apparent to even strangers.  
  
Oedipus complex? Wolfwood dragged the term from the back of his memory, hoping it was what he remembered it was.  
  
Yes. And they continued on like this for some time, Rem growing older and older, and Vash pining away for something that Rem was not willing to give. It was an unspoken agreement of sorts, Vash did not press the matter and Rem did not force him to give up his obsession. This worked until one day, Vash looked up and Rem was in her late thirties. She was getting older, and this he couldn't bear. He was ageless, and she was aging faster. He tried to get Knives to help him find a method by which to make Rem like them, but after certain... disagreements... they parted ways. Knives moved to July City, and Vash traveled with Rem around the planet, helping where they could.  
  
Legato paused for a moment. This is where I come in, one might say. Although I don't know precisely what triggered it, Vash finally outright professed his love of Rem. After she rebuked him, she discovered it was too late. Years of pent up love or lust broke loose and flooded him. My mother was raped that night, and I am standing here as a result.  
  
So, you're Vash son? Meryl was amazed. Legato Bluesummers was not only a survivor of July City, but he was also the child of the Humanoid Typhoon.  
  
Legato stopped for a moment, his silky voice going husky. I'm another of his legacies, his voice was bitter. Mother ran away, pregnant with me. Finding a job in a town far from Vash, she worked until she gave birth to me. She named me and cared for me, always keeping an eye out for my father. He, meanwhile, searched for us. Every now and then he'd catch a rumor of us, but for the most part, we stayed one to two steps ahead of him. This continued on for about a decade. I, for the most part, did not age. Although my father and Knives had aged much faster than a human before plateauing, I seemed to be aging constantly, but far slower than any human.  
  
Where was Knives during all of this?   
  
Knives interjected for the first time in this conversation, I was attempting to live as a human among humans. I was sick of living alone and all I wanted was to have a place where I could fit in.  
  
Did you ever see your brother? Wolfwood was wondering where the dream-memory that had been haunting him was supposed to fit into this story.  
  
Only once. Legato, continue the story.  
  
Legato gave a sideways glance at Knives before continuing. Mother couldn't stay hidden from him forever, and maybe she didn't want to. I don't know. All I know for sure is that one day he caught up with us. There was no escaping this time as my mother was well aware of. He was appalled at the effects that time had left on her and vowed to reverse it. That night he paid a bartender to slip something into her drink, and he carried her unconscious form and myself away from there. He smiled sadly at the memory, I thought this was a great adventure, out to see the world and all. How naive.  
  
Apparently in his travels he had found a portion of a SEED ship that still worked. Keeping Mother drugged for almost two weeks, we made our way there, stopping only to rest for the night. During this time, he told stories of his childhood on the ship, talking about his brother and of Rem herself. He skirted the issue of the Crash, claiming ignorance. I could tell even then though, he knew more than he was letting on.  
  
After we had finally reached the ship, Father put her into one of the remaining cryogenic pods. He planned keep her in stasis until a time came that he could end her aging, and they could stay together forever. He raised me during this time, teaching me how to use my talents which were evident even then.  
  
Meryl quirked an eyebrow at the vague description.  
  
Yes. Talents. Legato's voice echoed through their minds. I can continue the conversation this way if you wish. His tone was slightly mocking.  
  
No, please don't. The voice in her mind laughed once before exiting her mind the way it had come. Legato smiled.  
  
Very well. To summarize, the next important date in this story happened about twenty years ago. After years of experimentation and teaching, he figured he had finally found out a way to keep my mother alive. However, it required a sacrifice on my part, namely my life.  
  
At this point in my life, I only had vague recollections of my mother. She was merely the shadowy figure who lived within the tank that my father spent his days watching. Although he disapproved of me calling her anything other than Mother,' I found it hard to think of her as a living, breathing individual. I loved my father, but I didn't want to die for a mother who I didn't remember. However, Father insisted. He loved me in some fashion, however it was not enough to override the obsession he had with Rem. In the end, I had no choice. I still appeared to be around the age of three at this time with the attitudes of a teenager. Without much effort, he managed to overpower me and affix me to the machine he had been working on for the past half-century. I was so scared, but there was nothing I could do about it but see where this led.  
  
My father removed my mother from the tank she had been resting in almost reverently. I watched the care that he lay her on the table, watching his every move as he strapped the pressure cuffs to her arms. I almost felt like a voyeur, but in truth Father was more of one than I ever was. Legato stopped talking suddenly. The silence weighed heavily on everyone, but no one felt courageous enough to break it. Seconds trailed by turning into minutes, and still the quiet ticking of the clock reigned. Finally, as if a floodgate had been opened, Legato rushed forward, telling the next part as fast and as impersonal as he could.  
  
After a bit, he turned the machine on. Its job was to transfer certain of the chemicals and adjust her genes and such that she would be able to eventually keep herself as immortal as Vash himself was. And I was the sacrificial lamb. The machine began its work almost immediately, making her wrinkles disappear, erasing age from her countenance. It had the opposite effect on me, causing me to age faster than I had ever before. Within the next few hours I gained approximately five years age, and she lost ten. But a side effect of the treatment was that the chemical which had been used to drug her sixty years before, managed to work its way out of her system during the deaging process. When she awoke, it was a small matter for her to unhook herself from the machine. In a confused daze, she barely noticed the child next to her, and she abandoned me to my fate without a thought. My father came in awhile later, having checked on the machinery for the next portion of the procedure. Legato breathed deeply for a moment before continuing. He unhooked me from the machine and forced me to tell him precisely what had happened. I told him, and he left to prepare,' as he put it. He knew what was going on, he claimed. He knew, and Knives was going to pay for this, the ultimate insult. He didn't see me cry.. didn't understand what I was saying... Legato hunched his shoulders at the memory whose ember was flaming bright now.  
  
--------------------------------------------  
_I was seated on a porch, the sunsets blazing off to my side. My hair, newly long, was blowing slightly in the breeze. Beside me, my father sat watching the sunsets. For any other person on this planet, it might have been considered a father-son moment, but for me it was merely a surreal painting of a normal moment. I knew what was coming, and it was anything but normal._  
  
_He glanced in my direction, giving me one of his looks, the one that meant that he was deadly serious about the subject at hand, the one that no one could deny. His eyes, his eyes were able to see the smallest of my imperfections at the best of times, and now, they were able to see even farther than that._  
  
_Hey, don't worry, I'll be all right._ _Father assured me softly._  
_  
I-I know. B-but still-- _   
  
_She is your mother, and the one who is my true love. I can't leave her to your uncle. He will poison her, like he tried to do to me back then. This is something I have to do, it's necessary for our continued happiness. Everybody makes sacrifices sometimes-_ _He refused to meet my eyes. I had never seen him so nervous around me before, it was almost as if he was apologizing for what had happened earlier this day. He didn't know that I was willing to forgive him for that and more if only he would have stayed with me on that day. I am no exception. You understand that, right?  
  
Y-yes, sir.  
  
He laughed without any humor_. _That's new._ _I had nothing to say to that._ _Sighing, he put his arm around the my shoulders, drawing me into one of his infamous bear hugs. Even he could be caring at times, but only if it suited him. From within the depths of his embrace, I began to cry. _  
  
_I promise to come back. Don't worry, I'll be all right. I'll be all right. I'll come back and we'll live here forever. Don't worry._ _ The man whispered this into my hair, hugging me even tighter towards the end. After a few moments, he let go suddenly and turned away. After a moment of awkward silence, he turned back to me and forced a smile. Well, I'd better go. Don't worry about dinner, I asked Mrs. Marlowe to keep an eye on you._ _ He reached behind him and pulled three things from the shadows, two of which I recognized immediately. He gave me a small wrapped package. As I stared bewilderedly at it, Father stopped me from opening it. It's a surprise that I want you to open after I leave. Got it?_ _ I nodded slowly. Okay. Then I'd better go. Goodbye, Legato._ _ Standing up, he pulled on his coat the one that I had loved to smell, whenever I missed him. I watched as he holstered the big revolver that he always carried but never used in my presence. Buttoning up the coat, he hugged me one last time before walking away from the porch and into the sunset. He never looked back._  
  
_I tried to be brave after he left, but after he had disappeared from sight, I couldn't stop the shuddering sobs from coming. Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye... goodbye... It was to be my mantra for the next few years, but I was not to know that just yet._  
  
_I sat there for hours, waiting for him to turn around, waiting for life to return to normal. I just wanted to live the way I had been. It was not to be though, not in this lifetime._  
  
---------------------------------------------------------  
  
And then... Vash took off, leaving me to fend for myself. He didn't understand how betrayed and heartbroken I was, having been abandoned twice in one day by the two people who I had been promised would always be there for me. He just left, heading for a town that he suspected Rem had gone to. It was the town that Knives had built his life in, the town of--  
  
July City, Wolfwood said breathlessly in realization. He went to July.  
  
Yes. Twenty years ago, my father chased my mother to July, and caused the destruction of a city of over one million people.  
  
-------------------------------------------------  
  
Author's Note: Whoa, this is becoming kind of regular. Sorry if I stopped halfway through Legato's story, but this was just sitting here and I wanted to get it posted. I had to set Rem as being about 25 at the time of the crash for biological reasons. Note to possible flamers: I looked back on this chapter and realized that I sort up made Vash fucked up and a psycho. If the last bit seems kind of rushed, it's because it gets a full out explanation later on. Next up: July's Fate  



	7. Reaping

Disclaimer-- Same old, same old... you get the picture.

  
z-----------------z

  
Legato paused in his narration long enough to take another drink of his water, this time staring into his drink as he continued the story, "My father had told me not to worry, had tried to assure to me that this was just a normal occurrence. Had he not been under as much tension and stress as he was, he would have realized the futility of his reassurances, but he did not. Instead, he left me with a few vague instructions on dinner and a box. He instructed me not to open the box until he had left, which I followed, all the while knowing deep down, that I would probably never see my father again. And I did not see the man I had known as 'Father' ever again." He laughed a brittle laugh, swirling his drink around his glass before glancing over at Knives, "Why don't you explain the Gung-ho Guns to them while I go get something stronger to drink?" Knives nodded silently, watching carefully as Legato padded over to one of the cabinets and began to mix himself something. After a moment of this, he finally turned to Meryl and Wolfwood, sighing heavily.

"The Gung-ho Guns are descended from one of the plant-worshipping cults that started aboard the SEED ships. There is one main difference though, for while most of the plant followers were peaceful for the most part, the Gung-ho Guns derived their gospel from ancient Christian mythos regarding the end of the world. Their logic, which also contains hints of other religions, all of which are highly bastardized mind you, says that if Vash and myself are symbols of the coming Apocalypse, then it is their duty to usher it in."

"Apocalypse? Why would they see you as that?" Meryl's eyes were wide, this was more intrigue than she'd ever thought possible. Sure the world might end tomorrow, but she would die a happy woman, her life had finally taken a turn for the exciting.

"They see us as avenging angels." He considered his words for a minute before continuing, "I guess you could argue that Vash was one, of sorts, but for the most part the idea is completely ludicrous." Knives eyed Wolfwood's coat, "Vash didn't hate the humans, but in his quest to win Rem's love, he played the tension of the crew to the best of his ability. Outmaneuvering zealots was easy for him, and he felt it was a sign of my own weakness that I couldn't stand his manipulating ways. I believe that he figured if he became powerful enough, Rem would have to love him."

"And you just let him do this?" Wolfwood's tone warned Knives to watch his next words.

"I couldn't stop him. Vash was, well, he was Vash. I know that this is becoming a regular excuse for me, but it is true. Once he set his mind to it, there was no way to stop him. He is a puppetmaster with no equal that I've seen thus far, and when he feels like it, there is no force on this planet that can keep him from achieving his goals." Knives' voice was tired and dead, "He was the strong one, while I was the weak one who always huddled in his shadow. So, much as I hated myself for it, I couldn't protest him or his actions. I just couldn't."

"Why couldn't you tell me this before?" Wolfwood was relentless, not allowing Knives' obvious torment to slow him in his quest for answers, "What was keeping you from answering my questions before?"

Hands covering his face, Knives' shoulders shuddered violently before stilling. "Can't you see? I'm killing myself just telling you about the Gung-ho Guns. Every single instance I've been forced to deal with the Gung-ho Guns has been painful, but they have been few and far between. I had no real business with them until recently. I'm killing myself over their story, and you want me to talk about my brother?! The single person on this planet who shares my blood? The one person who influenced me most in my life? The one I share the most in common with?!!" A few choking sobs escaped from him, echoing across the room, which had gone deathly quiet.

Approaching from behind, Legato patted Knives on the shoulder, "Do you want me to finish their story?" A faint movement from Knives that could be taken as a nod, and Legato looked at Wolfwood darkly, "Then, let me continue," he purred dangerously, a warning glint in his eyes that told Wolfwood to leave well enough alone.

"The end result is that there are four active members of the Gung-ho Guns at any one time. Chosen for their prowess at battle, they are to represent the Four Horsemen of the Christian Bible. Whichever horseman that any one of the Gung-ho Guns happens to be, they follow the basic theme of that and wreak havoc as best they can among the humans. Although for many years they were a quiet and secretive group, they have grown steadily more violent since the July incident, and now they seem to be abandoning secrecy in favor of more and more destructive events. They seem to be preparing for an Armageddon of sorts, but your guess is as good as mine as of why they would choose to go public now."

Wolfwood shifted uneasily, shrugging the heavy coat off of his shoulders for a minute, before examining it closely. "So, which of the Gung-ho Guns is Millie Thompson?"

"I have heard that she is War." Legato's tone blended seamlessly with the night sky, sending shivers down Wolfwood's spine.

"And who are the others?" 

"The one who is Pestilence is known as Zazie. He likes to think of himself as Zazie the Beast, controller of animals everywhere. Famine is a man known only as Caine, who has singlehandedly depopulated cities by eliminating their supply caravans. And the last of the Gung-ho Guns is Plague, known by name as Dominique the Cyclops."

"Only four of them, and yet they still manage to send the entire world into shivers when their name is mentioned. That's quite a reputation," Meryl mused.

"Vash the Stampede is one man, and yet many grown men have nightmares about him," Knives said quietly, drawing Meryl's gaze like a magnet. "It's not so much the number as the actions behind the number that create the fear. The Gung-ho Guns have more than earned their reputation through their actions of cruelty and violence, whereas Vash's reputation is mainly through exaggerated accounts. Both work well in perpetuating myths."

"How do the Gung-ho Guns tie in to the destruction of July City?"

"They don't... and they do. In a way, July City gave their ideas credence, and therefore July made them who they are today for a large part, but since they never were actually there, they really had nothing directly to do with it. Mostly, they come in during the aftermath of that time."

Wolfwood's eyes narrowed, his gaze raking over the two who were telling the story. "Enough backstory, I want to know what happened. How could Vash destroy a town? Why would he do it? And most important, what do I have to do with any of this?"

His outburst was met with cold glances by both of the speakers. The tension weighed heavily on everyone in the room, but the silence wasn't broken until Knives finally shrugged his shoulders wearily, saying, "Fine. Much as I hate to remember, I will tell you EXACTLY what happened to me that day. The day started perfectly normally, I was supposed to help a farmer with his new well which wasn't producing water..."

  
z---------------------------------z

  
July City  
20 years ago

"Come on now, put your back into it!" The man behind him yelled at the hired hands who merely groaned and strained harder. Knives glared at his boss, he was entirely too much of a slave driver, but there was really nothing he could do about it. Not unless he wanted to jeopardize the place in humanity he had earned for himself over the last century. So he followed the man's instructions and pushed as hard as he could. Harder, in fact. Veins popping out of his neck, he strained with all of the others to push the wheel that would bring the first few drops of that precious liquid up from the depths.

Push...push...push... He could feel the muscles in his back bunching and throbbing. If this kept up for much longer he would pay for it later in cramps. As one calf seized up, he realized that he was already paying for it. And for what? He wasn't getting paid nearly enough for this kind of torture, but unfortunately, his leaser had just raised the price on the small apartment he rented on the outskirts of town. Suddenly, his job as a bartender in the local saloon couldn't pay all of his bill...and the end result of all of this was that he was forced to take another job. Ah yes, the joys of another job, starting out as an unrespected rookie for a satanic boss... No wonder he hated his newest job. It was lucky that it was only for a few weeks and it was relatively good paying.

"Alright, alright, keep it moving!!" The slavedriver's voice cracked above the groaning masses once more to encourage them. Lost in his thoughts, Knives had missed the first nudge of movement that suggested that water was beginning to be pumped. Push harder. Harder.

There was a faint cheer among the exhausted workers as the wheel began to turn slowly. Knives' voice cracked as he attempted to join the cheer. Damn, but he was dehydrated. Pacing the wheel, he applied just enough pressure to keep it moving, watching as the others did the same. After a few minutes of pacing it, his boss yelled at them to stop pushing and step away. As everyone willingly followed his orders, they watched in wonder as the wheel spun around its axis, propelled by the pressure of the underground water. A ragged cheer rose above the crowd as the boss himself pumped a glassful of water and drank from it noisily.

The job was done, and now it was paytime. Grinning tiredly, Knives watched as the others congratulated each other on a job well done, roughly joking and slapping one another on the back. 

_Nice as it looks, you'll note that you yourself are ostracized from the group. They do fear you, even if you pretend to be human._

But those was his brother's words, spoken rashly in a heated argument. An argument which resulted in Knives leaving Rem and Vash to go live for himself as a human. An argument which contained the last words he'd ever said to his brother. Words that happened over half a century ago. But they were only words, weren't they? What did the old nursery rhyme say,

'Sticks and stones may break my bones,  
But words will never hurt me...'

How wrong that was, Knives thought wistfully. How utterly wrong. Physical wounds would have healed by now, but Vash's words stung as painfully as they had when first uttered, eighty years before.

After collecting his paycheck, he headed off towards the local bank, hoping to deposit it before closing time. The suns beat down fiercely, fiery twins raging against his skin. Despite his light complexion, the suns' light never seemed to burn him, which one merely one of the oddities that the townspeople commented one when the topic discussion was one Mr. Knives Millions. If he heard their comments, he never showed it and his attitude of friendly service never changed towards any of them. He was, as always, an outsider, and he knew it.

"Knives? Oh my god, Knives!" A frantic female voice interrupted his thoughts as he crossed the street towards the bank. Spinning around, he was greeted by the last person in the world he'd expected. Rem was running towards him, her face pale and lined with worry.

"Rem?" How could she still be alive after all of this time, let alone looking as young as she did? What was going on?

"Knives," she gasped for breath upon reaching him, "I've been looking for you. You've got to help me, Vash--"

"Is not my problem," he cut in, turning back towards the bank. If he hurried, one of the tellers might still be working.

"No, no..." She trailed off, speaking to his back. When he didn't respond to her desperate tone, she began a hurried explanation, "Knives, Vash has gone completely insane. He's--"

"Here." Vash's cold voice caused both of them to spin around, watching as Vash dismounted slowly from the thomas he'd been riding. He was wearing that trenchcoat that he had made for himself, oh so long ago. From the set of his shoulders, Knives could guess that something was seriously wrong here. "It's nice to know that Rem feels she can run to you in times of need, brother."

Knives was confused, "What? She ran up to me just now... I really don't know what's going on here." Remembering the harsh words of their last encounter, he stopped suddenly, watching Vash. "What is going on here?"

"That's it, always conspiring against me. You never do change, do you Knives?" Around them, a small crowd of people had come to watch the heated argument between the two men, one wearing sweatstained clothes and the other clothed in a brilliant red trenchcoat. Whispers passed between the crowd members as people placed bets on which of the brothers would win in the fight that was sure to come.

Knives ignored all this, watching instead, as Vash approach him. Any thoughts of transferring his paycheck to his savings account had vanished the minute the man in red had appeared. Now if only Knives could figure out what was going on here. Something was definitely wrong, but he didn't have enough information on the proceedings to understand the dynamics of the situation. That, and the fact that the expression on his brother's face was unreadable to the point of being dangerous. Knives didn't like this at all.

"So, you've seduced Rem to your side, have you?" Vash's voice, if possible, was even colder than it had been earlier.

"My side?" Knives looked frantically at Rem, watching as she cringed under Vash's accusing eyes. "Vash, I don't know what you're talking about, she just--"

"Shut up!" Vash's voice cracked over the murmurs of the crowd. "Stop trying to blame her for your underhanded dealings! She is much more innocent and pure than anything you could ever achieve! And you," at this, Vash's voice lowered to an almost reasonable tone, "You corrupted her, dear brother. You corrupted my angel with your ideas."

Knives knew he was dealing with a madman, although previous dealings with his brother had not made this as apparent, this conversation alone was enough to convince him of that. "My ideas?" Knives tried to match the tone in Vash's voice, failed, and settled for the slightly angry tone that came out. "She was 'infected' by my ideas? And what, pray tell, are my ideas? All I ever wanted was to be free of you two. All I ever wished for was to be left in peace!"

"Stop it!" Rem wailed as the two brothers glared at each other. "Stop this fighting! Please!" Turning to Vash, she began to speak to him soothingly, "Vash, please don't do this. I'm tired of this fighting. Please, just stop." Her voice was almost a lullaby, and Knives appreciated her efforts. At least she wasn't being a useless sop like he'd always found her before.

Vash began to cry then, his bitter tears coursing down his cheeks. "Rem," he whispered softly, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for causing you pain." His words were muffled as he spoke softly into the depths of her hair.

The crowd began to disperse, as the situation died down. Attempting to leave this 'happy reunion,' Knives cursed his brother for the trouble he was causing in Knives' own life. How was he ever supposed to live a normal life if Vash kept destroying all of his hard work? How indeed.

After a few moments of butting through the crowd futilely, Knives gave up his escape attempt, choosing to linger on the sidelines as Rem and Vash talked quietly. She seemed to be explaining something to him, begging for understanding, and he was nodding slowly. It was a vision indeed, the crimson knight and his lady fair. A son and his mother. And Knives was left at the edges, looking in on something that he deemed as private and none of his business.

'If I can leave right now, I won't have to deal with either of them,' he kept repeating to himself. It was a mantra that he found particularly useful when dealing with his sibling, one that had been extremely useful during Vash's shiptime mood swings. You might say that it had been a survival skill against Vash's unpredictable nature.

The mob surrounding them had dispersed enough by now to allow Knives through. Pushing his way through gratefully, he tried to leave without attracting any attention. In his rush to leave however, he knocked one of the people in his way to the ground.

It was a child, about ten years of age. A little boy with brilliant blue hair and striking tiger's eyes. Jumping back startled, Knives collected himself and reached his hand out to the child, offering to pick him up, when the child's eyes widened and he whispered a word.

"Uncle?"

"What?" But he knew, had heard tales of his brother's life in the desert, alone save for an odd little toddler, whom every traveler remembered with startling accuracy. And although this was no toddler, the child before him fit the same select profile as the toddler. "Vash is--"

"Father," and for an instant the child's eyes narrowed, as if chasing back tears. "Yes." His cultured voice hinted at secrets best left unknown by Knives. "I followed him. He was chasing Rem." Knives noted something behind that single syllable, 'Rem,' but didn't pursue it. Turning back to Knives, the child noted dryly, "I see that he didn't kill you."

"What?!" Although Vash had never really warmed up to his brother, the worst he had ever been was apathetic. He had never truly hated Knives, had he?

"He left me to go find you. He said it was his duty, and even went so far as to give me his -"

"KNIVES!! GET AWAY FROM LEGATO....NOW!!!" Vash's voice suddenly ripped above their conversation, scattering the remainder of the crowd, as Vash brandished his gun at his brother. Legato, once more on his feet, began to back slowly away from Knives, his eyes fearful as he saw his father as never before.

Craning his neck around to see what had enraged his brother so, Knives saw Rem clinging fearfully to Vash's coat, letting the breeze whip the tails around her face. 

_Ivory...crimson...ivory...raven...ivory...crimson...so beautiful..._

Something was whispering in the back of his head. Shaking his head to clear it, he watched as Vash carefully lowered the prized silver six-shooter that he had crafted for himself, many years ago. It was the one that--

_>Blink<_--

that, he had--

_>Blink<_

But he was drifting. Something in Vash's eyes warned him that if he wasn't wary, he might end up dead. There was a dangerous animalistic glint in his brother's eyes, one that verged on the look of calculating insanity. Very dangerous indeed. It was no time for idle reminiscences.

And then he was falling, falling before he had even registered being shot. Something deep within told him that he was bleeding, but he never felt any of it. There was just him falling and the endless rushing breeze. After a moment, he realized vaguely that he was lying on his stomach, lying in a pool of his own blood. Something was throbbing in his ears and it was almost as if he could hear his life pumping its way out of his body. Almost? He laughed, a gurgling sigh of a chuckle. Who was he kidding? He was hearing his life pump its way out of his mortal shell. And all he could do was laugh...

Some part of him was vaguely aware of Legato leaning over him, checking his pulse and turning angrily to his father. He was yelling something, but Knives couldn't hear anything over the angry pulse of his heart. This was like, that other time--  
  
_"Why are you taking their side? They would side against you in an instant."_

Ignore the voices of yesteryear. Stay in the here and now for the sake of survival.

To his right, he watched as young Legato whirled around and stared directly at him, paralyzing his dying body with the intensity of his gaze. Something deep within Knives stirred at that, Legato was trying to help him somehow, if only he could aid as well... If only he knew how...

>>Follow my lead. I'll get you out of here. You're in no shape to deal with him, let me do it.<<

It was Legato again, his voice echoing through Knives' mind, a voice of reason amidst chaos.

>>Okay.<< Knives forced himself to swallow. He couldn't feel his arms or legs... was he going to die? He certainly would if Vash had his way with him...

Something deep in his mind stirred, an angry beast that was beginning to waken. The cool stem of thought in Knives' mind that was Legato reached out and soothed the beast, channelling its anger towards a more productive path. Deep within Knives, power grew--

"Legato!" Vash's voice howled above the sky, which was beginning to darken. His eyes glowed a fierce blue light, one that threw his features into stark contrast. "He has tricked you as well?"

Legato shook his head, "Father," he whispered above the growing wind.

>>Get ready,<< the voice in Knives' mind warned. From his angle on the ground, Knives watched Legato's shoulders tense. **>>GO!!<<** His mindvoice thundered.--

PUSH--

As Knives vanished from view, Legato panted slightly and turned to his father. "He did nothing. You did it all."

"Legato--"

"Shut UP!" Legato screamed at the man he had looked up to his whole life, now laid bare as the man he actually was, "I LOVED YOU!! I LOVED YOU AND YOU THREW ME AWAY!!" Tears streamed down his face as he spoke the words that no child should ever be forced to say. "You threw me away, father. I was a tool to you. A tool, not family. She was your family, not me..." He broke down, his face lowered, the tears falling to the parched earth in a steady rain. Both fists were trembling as he tried to keep control, something that his father had always valued highly.

"Legato." And that voice was the voice of the man who had whispered gently to Legato at night. It was the voice of the man who had loved him, once upon a time. "He fooled you once, for which I forgive you." Legato's eyes widened in horror as he turned his gun upon him, "But you were corrupted and are now unusable, and for that I cannot forgive him."

A single shot and Legato crumpled to the ground, clutching his shoulder. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he watched as Vash levelled the gun at him once more. 

"No!" Rem, having stayed silent for the duration of Knives' shooting and of Legato's wounding, sprang forward to throw Vash's shot off as he tried to finish off Legato. The shot, previously aimed at Legato's head, entered Rem's back, right between her shoulderblades. It exited right below her left breast, striking the ground at Legato's feet.

Vash gasped. Time stopped.

"RE-E-E-E-E-E--"

Rem fell to the ground, suddenly choking on her own blood, as the liquid pooled in her lungs.

"-E-E-E-E-EM!!!" Vash darted forward, catching her before her head hit the ground. Blood trickled from the side of her mouth, dripping onto the shirt she wore, staining it red. The blood mixed with his tears as he spoke to her in her last moments.

"Rem, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry... Rem, if you hold on, I can keep you here. Rem, why did you stop me? We didn't need Legato anymore, Knives will do. Rem, can you forgive me? Rem, please, please stay here. Rem? Rem, can you hear me? Rem, stay here. Rem, I'm sorry, can you forgive me? Rem...."

Legato watched his father cradle his mother, watched her slip away as Legato was. Watched even as she embraced the darkness that he fought to stave off. Clutching his shoulder, he crawled to where his father lay, crying the tears he had never let go before.

Rem choked, a last haunting trail of blood and sweat trickling down her ivory skin, before going silent. Vash watched in agony, his silver gun trailing in the pool of blood that marked his shot. When the last breath left, his face went white, a pale wraith against the gold of his hair and the red of his coat. The sickly, sticky red which coated all nearby surfaces... The red of the copper taste at the back of his throat... Death.

It was then, at that precise moment, that two things happened. The first of these saved Legato from the second.

First, Legato reached out one hand, hugging his father's coat close to him, drinking in the scents of leather and sand that were his father's trademarks. "Father--" he choked, before being drowned out by his father's scream.

"REEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMMM!!!!" A tortured cry, a gathering of destructive power, and then-- a beam of light that destroyed everything it touched.

One moment July was the Seventh City, and the next it was a scene of Hell. At its epicenter, silent flashes of power still emanated from its source, a man in red who clutched a woman to his breast while sobbing into her unresponsive shoulder. Somewhere beneath the rubble, a child dreamed his pain away, unconsciously using his power to keep himself alive. Somewhere outside of town, a young girl watched the light flash, and gained a purpose to her life.

  
z--------------------------z

Silence.

Knives opened his eyes carefully. What had happened? He felt drained and lost. Something was going on, something that he had just barely escaped... Something involving his brother... Throwing a blanket that covered his legs back, he tried to sit up, stopping in pain, as the wound he had suffered at his brother's hands flared to life once more.

"There there, now. Go back to sleep. You're in no shape to even consider getting out of bed." A kindly voice belonging to a blurry shape pushed him back to the straw pallet he lay on. "Sleep."

"But where--"

"Sleep," the voice commanded softly. "There's all the time in the world for remembering, later."

And Knives slept.

  
z-------------------z

  
And Legato healed.

  
z-------------------z

  
And Millie Thompson cried.

  
z-------------------z

  
Author's Notes: Okay, the July scene is over. Where next? About halfway through this chapter I decided to redo it as a flashback, because it was getting boring to write the whole thing as a conversation conducted by Legato and Knives. Plus, Meryl and Wolfwood weren't contributing much to the whole thing, so it seemed the most logical thing to do.

Hopefully I'll be able to finish this in another chapter or two, but who knows? At least I'm done with the major flashback scene... man, that was a bitch and a half. Note to self: No more Rem stories. Nuh-uh, no more.

Anyway, back to the actual notes. If the timeline for the story keeps changing, ignore it. I'm trying to stick pretty much to the timeline of the original anime, so any discrepancies are flukes. I think they are, anyway.

And on a side note, wouldja believe I started this story with the intention of writing a romance for once? Sheesh.... 


End file.
